Quicksilver (reissue) by Toni Dwiggins

Author:Toni Dwiggins [Dwiggins, Toni]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, Crime, political, Financial
Publisher: Toni Dwiggins
Published: 2013-11-06T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 28

It wasn’t an Old West six-shooter in Henry’s hand. It was a modern-day Glock, carried by cops everywhere or at least at the crime scenes I’d worked. Henry’s Glock was matte black except for the slide, the metal there silvered where the finish had worn off, which left me thinking Henry Shelburne handled this gun a lot. Or maybe Henry ‘Quicksilver’ Shelburne had sanded the finish down to silver on purpose.

He still gripped the gun with both hands. He pointed it somewhere in the neighborhood of our six legs.

Robert, Walter, and I stood side-by-side in a lineup in front of the tunnel.

Henry spoke to Walter. “I am hiring you.”

Walter said, gently, “We prefer not to work at gunpoint.”

“It’s just in case.”

“In case of what, son?”

“Just in case. Just in case.”

Walter said, more gently, “All right.”

Henry raised his hands, and the Glock. His hands shook. The gun oscillated. “A geologist needs to go in.”

“Cassie will go,” Walter said promptly.

“Does she know...”

“Yes,” Walter said, “she knows everything there is to know about the auriferous channels. I taught her.”

I got it. Walter was going to stay outside with crazy Henry while I went on the treasure hunt. He thought he was protecting me. He always has. When I was a kid assisting in his lab and he took me to my first crime scene, he bought me a whistle in case we got separated. All these years later and now we’re doing the tricky dance of who is protecting whom. Vigilance is in his DNA. It’s tattooed on his soul.

There’s a man with a gun. And Walter is stepping up.

I stole a glance at Robert. He stood rigid, watching his brother. Not overtly afraid but then I’d not seen Robert Shelburne show fear. I did not know how he would exhibit fear.

I refocused on Henry. He looked a little lost, as if he’d come out of hiding too soon. His face was more weathered than the teenager in the photo but the Sherpa wool cap now cupping his head made him look young again. Still, he did not have teenage Henry’s cool-guy squint. His eyes were reddened, blinking. Lack of sleep, trying to get a wet fire going, crying, who knew? His nose was pinkish, sunburned, peeling. I guessed the weather had been clear and sunny before we joined the hunt, although I wondered why an experienced outdoorsman like Henry Shelburne had not used sunscreen. His peeling nose—like the preposterous earflaps—made him look like a kid. I ignored that.

Robert Shelburne’s kid brother. Not mine.

Henry let go of the gun with his right hand and lifted it, gesturing at the tunnel.

I stared at his hand. The palm was pink, peeling, and I got a sick understanding that we weren’t talking sunburn here. Jesus Henry, what have you been into?

Robert suddenly lunged.

Quick as a snake strike, Henry had both hands on the Glock, had the gun aimed at his brother’s head.

Robert raised his own hands. “Chill Bro.”

I said quickly,“I’m going in.”

Henry pulled his arms into his chest, bracing his elbows, steadying his aim.

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